Not a creature was stirring...

As busy and hectic as the holiday season seems to be, one would understand if your “outdoor” traditions slip by the wayside. Succumbing to a landslide of festivities and obligations, so often the annual New Year’s Eve camping excursion or Thanksgiving Day float trip get subbed out for dinner at Uncle Frank’s or drinks at the in-laws.

It happens, people.

I love to #optoutside as much as anyone but the bigger our family gets (and the more they spread out around the country), the more precious the holiday times become. Down to the minutes, even.

I still keep fighting it though, finding every chance to steal away to woods or trails. Not to get away from the family time but rather just to keep a little balance. Somehow, not sure how, I have managed to keep a couple of priceless holiday traditions alive. The first one is an annual mountain bike ride on Thanksgiving Day, ten years running now. It’s taken some flexibility but I’m certain all would agree it’s been worth it. A lot can change in a year, much less ten. The friends I go with were all close when we started. Now everyone has moved or their situations have changed. The annual ride is the only time some of us see each other anymore.

Then there is Black Friday, a day that our family has spent outside for the past five years. Let’s be honest, that is a straight-up win and an easy sale for my crew.

Another tradition takes place the day after Christmas. This past week, on a particularly cold post-Christmas morning, I laced up the trailrunners and loaded up the dog well before daybreak. It’s something I have done for years. Huddled in the front seat with a cup of coffee and a small opening through the frosty windshield, I cruised to a local state park trailhead. Upon exiting and pushing the door shut, I was immediately reminded of one small treasure of such ventures.

There wasn’t another car, not another sound.

My panting dog was the only thing moving, shaking with anticipation and wondering what was taking me so long. And so off we went, enjoying all the usual facets of trail time one finds so redeeming – paths by the lake, stands of evergreens, bird songs and a rising sun. Two hours and ten miles later, we emerged both better off for having gone. Both of us ready to return to the festivities.

Even then, ours was still the only car around. It impressed on me just how important these little traditions are. For all the typical reasons, yes, but even more so because of what it offers in contrast to the holidays – calm, quiet and solitude. Three things in short supply this time of the year.